Applications of Alchemy: 2
by Starbrigid
Summary: 2. mindchanger. Scar and Al. In some ways, Alphonse Elric is like the Philosopher's Stone.


2. mindchanger

"That looks like it really, really hurts. Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"No."

This alley wasn't much different from the last one he'd been in. The sky looked the same, only a little less gray, and the storm clouds were moving fast, making it even harder to tell the time of day than before. There was the same trash sprinkled randomly along the sides, pooled in the dark mud, garish colors indistinguishable. Scar didn't even know the name of this city. He liked its alleys, though, because they seemed like no one would notice a body for a while in them, and if someone did, it would be someone bad, not a child just happening upon it. He'd left a body in the last alley, though Al didn't know it, a State Alchemist, just like his companion's brother. The only differences were the pain in his side and Alphonse Elric's voice, much more difficult a one.

"I- was surprised, Mr. Scar, to see you here. I hadn't thought I'd get to see you again."

"Go help your brother. Go away."

Shouts and the sizzle of blue-lit transmutations filtered into his own corner. The alchemist had been a woman. She'd barely put up a decent fight. He hated women's voices, higher, more full than men's, and with so much more murky possibilities inside them. He was sure the Fullmetal Alchemist wasn't having any trouble with the petty criminals. He was too hardened to dwell over the possibilities of what could have happened with those men if the Elrics hadn't just happened along. It was inevitable that people hated Ishbalites, but it was still unsettling that he hadn't noticed their presence until the knife had been in his hand.

He flexed that hand, the arm's hand, contemplating his knuckles, and deliberately didn't look at Alphonse. Alphonse had gone to help him, left his brother to the bullies. He wasn't even sure if Fullmetal had recognized him, and Alphonse couldn't smell the blood on him, the remnants of what the mist and the last hour's rain had cleaned from him. A howl of deadly pain, and almost as high as a woman's- Scar tapped his wrecked knuckles against the stained cobblestones and caught a flash of metal in his peripheral vision. Alphonse was talking.

"I guess everyone does have bad days, Mr. Scar."

That stupid politeness made Scar feel sick. The sickest part of Alphonse, the inhuman abomination, was how comforting his presence was. Why did Al think Scar was human? Slams of metal against flesh, Fullmetal was winning from the sound of it, so that left the little brother here to worry inexplicably over his enemy, Scar, and be awkward.

"Go away," said Scar. He could tell Al wanted to touch his wounds and help him, and was glad the boy didn't. That would have been more than he could stomach.

"I'm sorry you got hurt."

"Go away," Scar said, and heard a scream and a yell of triumph. Al trusted his brother's skills enough not to flinch. "One in pain may sleep-"

"But one who causes it can never sleep again."

Scar turned at the sound of the boy's clear, childish voice, and the features of the armor were condensed into a ball, clunky arms hugging clunky legs to a clunky, hollow chest. Scar could almost see the child inside there.

"I- I did a little research. Not much, because Brother and I have so much else to learn, but I found out a little about your religion. I don't really understand it, but-"

Silence reinstated itself, and Scar realized it had startled sprinkling rain. The water was probably polluted in this brown city, but he still liked the way it felt on his open, unbound wounds. Alphonse couldn't feel the rain, though, and that was wrong.

"I'm glad I saw you again, Mr. Scar. I've wanted to thank you for so long, for what you said."

Fullmetal would come soon. He should leave. He looked at the little brother, and it snagged on his heartstrings a little, the god-pain. That was surprising, he hadn't felt that kind of pain for so long. Things were kind of gritty and blurry from the pain by now, but he didn't let Al see it.

"Why do you follow your brother?" Scar asked. Al looked back at him, and the raindrops echoed off him.

"Because I love him," Al said.

Scar got to his feet. Al did, too.

"I wish you would stop this, Mr. Scar."

"I can't," Scar said, and almost wished he could. In the neon red lights of the city, Al almost looked like the Philosopher's Stone. Infinite possibilities, that was.

"I don't want this," Al said quietly. "I don't want Brother to kill you. I don't want to never see you again."

Scar couldn't think of anything to say to that. He began to stumble away. He wanted to say thank you, but didn't.

"May you go with God's protection," he said, but soft enough so that the little brother wouldn't hear him.


End file.
